


Cure for the Itch

by melonbutterfly



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is trying to understand Jim better, but some human ways simply elude him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cure for the Itch

"I do not understand," Spock said.

Jim blinked and raised his head up from where he had been staring at the chess board to look at him. "You do not understand what?" With Spock, he had gotten used to abrupt changes in topic or picking up conversations or arguments that had taken place days before; he took it as a sign that Spock was comfortable to be more than human with him and felt honoured. But sometimes it was a little hard to keep up with him, though he _did_ enjoy being kept on his toes. Most of the time, at least.

"Music," Spock continued, looking up as well. A couple of months ago, Jim would have labelled his expression "expressionless as usual", but now he knew better; Spock was curious and puzzled, and while Spock liked both emotions (inasmuch as he liked and allowed emotions in general), he did not enjoy experiencing them over an extended period of time.

"Music?"

Blinking and visibly (at least to Jim, at least after a couple of months of intense Spock-studying) shifting his mind back into slower, more human gears, Spock elaborated. "You enjoy listening to what most people would consider loud, disharmonic noise."

Jim grinned wryly. The music of his taste had been called many things, and "loud, disharmonic noise" was the politest of them all. "It's called metal, Spock. Or some of it, hard rock. And you should be glad; most of what I like is still fairly tame. Meaning, you can understand the lyrics, mostly."

Spock tilted his head, seemingly not having heard his words, but Jim knew he had—he could probably quote them back to him in twenty years still. Or fifty. "I researched the topic and it does not seem to match."

"Match with what?" Jim reached for his glass of cooled mango juice, trying to figure out where this was going and whether it meant their game of chess would be abandoned for the evening. Damn it, he had been winning.

"Your character. My resources all agreed that those individuals who enjoy this kind of music are troubled, angry, feel misunderstood and hostile towards most people. You are not, by any stretch, any of these things. I do not understand."

"Hm." Jim let the juice roll over his tongue, enjoying the taste – his evenings with Spock had revealed the wonderful world of tasty fruit juices to him, and nowadays Jim enjoyed a good fruit juice almost as much as a good brandy. "What kind of music, then, do you think I should like?"

Spock looked almost a little helpless. "I have yet to understand all kinds of music of Earth, much less of all the known parts of the Universe. It is a very complicated topic, and since you are a very complicated man, I find myself unable to label you to one genre, as I find myself unable to label you in general."

"Complicated?" Jim blinked. This was completely new to him. "I'm not complicated. I'm very simple, actually. Why do you think I'm complicated?"

It was Spock's turn to blink – not that he did, outwardly, but Jim could see it nonetheless. "You are one of the most complicated persons known to me, Jim, while still being a balanced character. There is nothing simple about you at all. Whenever I think I have finally gotten closer to figuring you out, I come upon another facet of you and find I am not at all closer to real knowing."

Jim didn't really know if he should be flattered or worried that Spock experienced him like that; he filed his emotions away for later pondering (and that, he had learned from Spock alright) and considered Spock's words on a more logical level (see?). "You know me pretty well, actually. The fact that your estimation of the extent of me has been proven faulty does not change the knowledge you have previously gained, or lessen it. But I know what you mean – that's pretty much how I feel about you."

Spock considered this for a moment before replying. "And yet I am a perfectly logical creature, and thus new aspects of me should not surprise you that much."

"Logical, you are, Spock. But that does not mean you're _simple_ by any stretch of imagination."

With a slight nod, Spock conceded the point, because they had had this argument before; Spock considered logic to be wonderfully easy and _logical_ (duh), and Jim agreed with him, but also thought logic could be terribly complicated sometimes. Which didn't really make sense, Spock had pointed out; one could not consider something both easy and complicated at the same time. They both enjoyed discussing this a lot, as they enjoyed discussing everything (not that Spock would quite put it like that; he'd probably say he found their conversations "refreshing" or "fascinating"), and did it often, but not now.

"Still, I do not understand how your taste in music matches your emotions and mental state."

Suddenly, Jim understood. "You're worried! You're worried about me, aren't you?" Spock just raised an eyebrow, his universal response to nearly everything, but Jim had learned to understand him months ago. "There really is no reason for that, Spock, really. I'm perfectly happy and well-balanced, not secretly angry or troubled or misunderstood or hostile at all, don't worry. I just like this kind of music as a leftover; when I was a teenager, I listened to little else. I was very angry back then, you're right about that, but saying that everyone who likes metal is angry is wrong, I believe. It's really quite simple; the music is aggressive, so I don't need to be aggressive anymore. When I'm pissed or stressed I listen to some, maybe sing along or wriggle my ass a little, go to the gym or whatever, and then I'm fine. It's recreational, like food or napping or really any other kind of music. It's relaxing."

For a while, it was silent in Spock's cabin, both contemplating Jim's words and the logic of them. Finally, Spock nodded slightly and said, with the slightest twitch of the corner of his mouth, "That is logical in the warped kind of way I have learned from you, Jim." Before Jim could react, he reached over and moved one of his knights. "Check."

Jim's mouth dropped open. "Wait, wait wait wait! Why check? Hey! That's not fair, I wasn't- and what do you mean, warped logic? My logic is not warped, it's perfectly logical! That was mean, Spock, you cheated!"

Spock raised one eyebrow and said dryly "I did not, but if I had, you'd find that I learned that from you as well."

Jim didn't know how to respond to that and finally, feeling quite flustered and not knowing why, lowered his gaze to the chessboard again.


End file.
